The Long Lunch
by Emi-Lynn
Summary: When McGee is sent on the lunch run, things go horribly wrong. Five interconnected stories that make up a larger story. Pre-slash. Written as a line on a H/C bingo card. Glitch in final chapter now fixed.
1. Chapter 1

Story One - Lunch Run

"Boss? It's, umm, kinda past lunch time."

Gibbs looked over at DiNozzo, who was leaning toward the elevator, and rolled his eyes. His senior agent had been antsy all day, ever since interviewing the witness with the blonde hair and the big – assets. He wasn't going to let him get off this easy. "Fine. McGee, make the lunch run."

"Boss?"

"Boss?"

He didn't roll his eyes at the two of them, but it was close. "DiNozzo, you made the lunch run yesterday. McGee can go today."

"If Tony really wants to go..."

The rain was coming down in sheets and Gibbs knew that was why McGee wasn't all that interested in going out. Gibbs almost felt bad about sending him out since he wasn't in the doghouse, but he was the team's probie and sometimes crap came with the territory. Get going, McGee."

"Yes, Boss."

-NCIS-

"Shut up, old man."

The hand that hit his face made him see stars, but Harold Wahl refused to let it show. "Take the money from the cash register and go."

"Eighty-five bucks? That's all you've got?"

"I bet there's more here someplace."

Harold wasn't sure which one of the two he should be more worried about. The young one with the gun waving around was unpredictable, but the older one with the swastika tattoo had a coldness to him that he hadn't seen since he'd been a boy in the camps. Carefully he made sure his sleeve covered the numbers that made up his own tattoo. "I'm sorry, most of my customers pay with a card nowadays."

"What about a safe? You got a safe around here, Gramps?"

He kept his expression very neutral. "Does this place look like it brings in enough cash to warrant a safe? Just take the eighty-five dollars and go."

The nervous one was watching the door. "Shit, there's somebody coming, Z-man. What do we do?"

-NCIS-

Soaked through his NCIS jacket even before he made it out to the car, Tim grumbled all the way to the little deli the team liked. Parking in the nearly empty lot, he pulled his cap down low enough to keep the rain out of his eyes as he ran for the door. Reaching the door, he tugged it open and stepped inside, wiping the water off his face as he called out. "Hey, Mr. Wahl, it's really coming down out -" He barely registered movement off to the side before his world exploded into pain.

"You idiot, what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

Pain made his vision swim, but Tim was pretty sure that he was on the floor and that there were at least two of them in the deli, in addition to Mr. Wahl and himself. Trying to roll over and get to his weapon, Tim's jacket moved enough to reveal his badge, clipped to his belt.

"Shit, he's some sort of cop."

Tim still hadn't figured out where they were, but the first boot to his rib cage gave him a pretty good clue. Two more kicks and he felt his ribs give way. Unable to catch his breath, Tim managed to get his hands on his gun at the same time as his attacker. It was a losing battle, he knew that without a doubt, but he had to try. He managed to delay the inevitable for a few minutes, then the hands he was fighting shifted to grab his jacket, lifting him up and slamming his head against the floor

"Stop it, you are killing him."

Mr. Wahl, but he sounded so far away as Tim lost the battle to stay conscious.

-NCIS-

For a split second there was hope, but the young agent was shot as soon as he stepped inside the deli. The heavy rain meant that he was looking down, the brim of his hat protecting his face somewhat from the cold water and he probably never even saw his attackers. The nervous one had fired, then the skinhead was yelling.

"You idiot, what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

If they'd been in a strip mall, or if it hadn't been raining so hard, someone might have heard the shot or the subsequent shouting, but they were in a free-standing building on the edge of an industrial area. They were kicking and punching the agent as he struggled to keep them from reaching the gun strapped to his waist.

"Shit, he's some sort of cop."

The blows increased and Harold knew they would murder him if it kept going. He was scared, but he had to do something.

"Stop it, you are killing him."

"Shut up, Gramps."

He watched as they rolled the now unconscious agent onto his back and removed his gun. The skinhead seemed pleased with it, running his hands over the black metal before pointing it down. "These things pack a hell of a punch, Robbie. You wanna see?"

"Yeah, man, do it. Splatter that pig's brains all over the place."

No, he could not allow that to happen. Not to a man devoted to helping others. Not to a customer so polite and kind. Harold picked up his heaviest skillet and charged.

-NCIS-

"Shut up, Gramps." Dismissing the elderly shopkeeper from his mind, Thomas Zablocki used his foot to roll his latest victim over. Grinning, he bent down and pulled the large handgun out of the holster. Sig Sauer, blued finish, it felt nice in his hand – a whole lot better than the small revolver he'd taken from his own grandfather. Standing up, he sighted down the barrel, lining up the dot with the cop's left eye. "These things pack a hell of a punch, Robbie. You wanna see?"

Robbie was a tweaker who loved violence. "Yeah, man, do it. Splatter that pig's brains all over the place."

It would be good, but it would be even better if the pig was awake. Seeing the fear in his eyes would have been the icing on the cake. He waited a few seconds, enjoying the anticipation, but the movement he saw was out of the corner of his eye. Without warning, or even flinching, he turned and fired, a cold smile crossing his face as Harold Wahl's head snapped back and his legs crumpled.

"Should have stayed cowering in the corner, old man. That's what you Jews do best. Get the money, Robbie, we're out of here."

"Sure, man." Robbie gleefully shoved the bills into his pockets. "What are we going to do with him?"

Zablocki looked down at the unconscious man and a plan started to form. "You wanna have some fun?"

"Yeah, man."

"We're taking him with us."


	2. Chapter 2

Story Two - Missing

"What is taking Probie so long? I'm starving here."

Ziva looked over at Tony and shrugged, while Gibbs was very intently listening to the phone call he'd just received. Eventually Gibbs hung up abruptly and jumped to his feet with a strange look on his face. "Gear up."

They did, Tony pulling out his phone at the same time. "You want me to call McGee, have him meet us there?"

The strange look on Gibbs' face just intensified and he shook his head as he scribbled down the address and handed it to Ziva. David, you drive the truck. I'll meet you there."

"Why is she driving?" DiNozzo blanched at the look of glee on Ziva's face. It had been a very long time since Gibbs had given her the truck keys. Gibbs ignored the question as he moved quickly toward the stairwell, already on the phone again.

-NCIS-

"Gear up."

The words said over the phone were echoing in his head as he ordered Ziva to drive and rushed out of the bullpen.

 _Robbery gone bad._

 _Second victim._

 _NCIS cap found in the blood._

Ducky was called first, civilian victim or not, if McGee was missing, this was their case.

He'd dialed McGee the second he'd hit the stairwell, but the phone was answered by one of the cops at the scene.

 _Gibbs, I guess this means your man was definitely here._

Not what he wanted to hear. "Did they take his car?"

 _Black sedan still in the lot, federal tags._

"Damn it." They were smart enough to know the car could be tracked and they'd left McGee's phone behind. This was not good. "Our man, our case."

 _Figured as much._

Snapping his phone shut, Gibbs sped up, leaving the truck in his dust.

-NCIS-

"Whoa, what's got Gibbs all fired up?" Tony hung on as Ziva changed lanes, trying to keep Gibbs in sight.

"I do not know. That address is familiar, though."

Tony took the slip of paper from the seat between them. It was familiar, but he couldn't place it. A quick Google search showed him what he didn't want to see. "It's that deli Gibbs likes, the one with the killer pastrami sandwiches."

"Do you think that McGee-"

"No! Don't even think that, Ziva."

"Perhaps he called it in?"

"Okay, maybe. Yeah, that would explain why Gibbs said not to bother calling him." Pushing that little bubble of panic back, Tony's head bobbed up and down. Poor guy, after all these years he still turned green at some of the more bloody scenes and Tony silently promised not to razz him too much. His suspicions were confirmed when they pulled in behind Gibbs and saw the sedan already parked there. "Yeah, he called it it."

Tony was out of the truck before Ziva had it fully parked. "McGee got the scene secured, Boss?" Gibbs turned and his expression drove a spike of fear through Tony. "Boss?"

The first part of the crime scene was so close to the door that they could go through that way, but they could see blood all over the floor, both in pools and smears, a familiar cap laying nearby and Tony closed his eyes for a second as the reality set in. "He already on his way to the hospital?"

"We don't know where he is."

"But...?"

Gibbs shook his head, an expression on his face that Tony had never seen. "LEO's found it like this. Owner is dead behind the counter. Blood and McGee's cap by the door. His phone, too."

Ziva finally arrived in time to hear that. "Then where is McGee's body?"

Tony took a good look at Gibbs' face. The man was determined, but there was a haunted look in his eyes and Tony remembered that Gibbs had ordered McGee to make the lunch run and was probably feeling a little guilty. "You think the perp took McGee hostage?"

Gibbs looked at the blood and shook his head. "He didn't leave here on his own, that's for sure. Let's get started; that much of a blood loss..."

Tony and Ziva exchanged a glance. If all the blood on the floor was McGee's, he was in serious trouble.

-NCIS-

"Hey, guys, what you got for me?" It was mid-afternoon and the day had been slow for Abby. She was caught up on her paperwork and was hoping to get out in time for a concert, but one look at the expressions on Gibbs', Tony's and Ziva's faces and where in the hell was McGee? Getting a very bad feeling, her blood ran cold. "Guys?"

Gibbs' mouth opened twice before any words came out. "Robbery went bad. Looks like McGee..."

When his words ran out, Tony filled her in. "We think he's been taken hostage, Abby. We know he was hurt."

Cold, she was so cold and Tony's voice sounded so far away as she tried to correct him. "No, no, no. McGee doesn't get hurt. You're wrong, I'll just call him..." Her phone was right there and she instantly thumbed the familiar number. It rang in stereo, both in her hand and in the evidence box Ziva was holding. Then Tony was there, making sure she didn't fall to the ground.

"Abby, we need you. McGee needs you."

McGee needed her, she could help save him. Locking the terror away, Abby straightened up. "Okay, give me the evidence. If there's something there, I'll find it." She blanched at the two bloodied bullets, but she was determined to find something to save McGee.

Gibbs still looked haunted but at least now he was talking. "Ziva, you stay and help Abby. Tony and I will go through the surveillance tapes."

-NCIS-

"Boss?" They were back in the elevator, but Gibbs had pressed the button for down instead of up.

Gibbs held up the tapes. "I want Ducky's opinion."

Tony couldn't remember Gibbs doing that or behaving like he was. "Umm, okay."

Dorneget was wheeling in the equipment just as they arrived. Ducky seemed surprised by both arrivals. "Jethro, what is all this? I haven't even begun the autopsy."

"This comes first. If we're lucky, we'll see what went down. Need you to tell me what the game plan is. Why kill the owner and take McGee?"

"All right. I'm not sure how much of a psychological profile I can give you based on this, but I will do what I can."

The tape was started and they all breathed a small sigh of relief that the images were clear. Apparently Harold Wahl took security very seriously because the image was a split screen, showing the deli from two different directions. Tony got it running on fast forward until about thirty minutes before McGee would have arrived. They watched as two men came in and started harassing the deli owner. A few minutes into the confrontation, a small revolver was pulled.

"That's not the gun they used to kill Mr. Wahl." Palmer was watching, along with Ducky, and Tony just nodded. The bullet they'd dug out of the wall behind Wahl had been a much larger caliber.

On the left side of the screen they saw McGee arrive, head down, collar up, trying to avoid the worst of the rain. The suspect with the gun fired on him before the door had fully closed behind him.

"Shit, he never stood a chance."

Gibbs only nodded at Tony's observation as the attack continued to unfold on the screen, all of them wincing as McGee was repeatedly kicked and punched and Tony felt a bit of pride in his partner for fighting to maintain control of his weapon. He couldn't draw it, but he kept his attackers from gaining control right up until one vicious kick to the head rendered him unconscious. It was only then that the apparent ringleader gained possession of the Agency issued SIG Sauer.

Tony held his breath as the SIG was leveled at McGee's head. He couldn't read lips, but Gibbs tensed next to him. Just before McGee would have been shot, the deli owner charged at the would-be robbers, armed with nothing more than a cast-iron skillet. He only made it a step or two before the ringleader swung around and fired. Wahl's head snapped back, the exit wound leaving a cloud of blood and brain matter on the wall behind him.

More words were said, which seemed to get Gibbs even more angry, before the suspects dragged McGee out of the shop. They were out of view of either camera and just as Tony was giving up on getting any additional leads, a car backed up into view before pulling away. Tony scrambled for the remote and backed the tape up, slowing it down so that it moved frame by frame before freezing it when the license plate became visible.

"Good job, Tony. Get a BOLO out on it."

"On it, Boss. Hang on, Probie, we're coming."


	3. Chapter 3

Story Three - Captivity

Seasick, that was his first though, but even that wasn't right. Tim struggled to sort out what he was feeling – he hurt, really hurt, all over and there was a burning pain just below his shoulder. Bullet wound, most likely. He was nauseous and whatever dark place he was in was rocking. More details finally reported in and the smell of exhaust was almost overwhelming.

Trunk, he was in the trunk of a moving car. His mind a little bit clearer, he took better stock of his situation. He wasn't tied or handcuffed, which was good, but his weapon and phone were gone, which was bad. Feeling around, he could tell that the knife he carried in his pocket was also gone, but his belt was still intact, the hidden knife undisturbed. The biggest surprise was the fact that his cuffs were still in their case on his belt. He struggled to remove them and tucked them into his pocket, behind his wallet. It wasn't the best option, but anywhere else would show. He left the case unsnapped, hoping that his abductors would think they'd been lost somewhere along the way. The injuries were limiting his mobility enough, if he were cuffed there would be no chance of escape.

Apparently turning off a paved road, the ride became rougher and Tim was totally unprepared when the wheel suddenly dropped and he slammed his head against the trunk lid, once again losing the fight to stay conscious.

-NCIS-

"Jethro, a word?"

DiNozzo had already left Autopsy at a run, calling in the BOLO at the same time, but Gibbs turned back to his old friend. "Yeah, Duck?"

"This is not your fault."

"I sent him out on that lunch run. Knew he didn't want to go, knew he was sick last week, and I still sent him out in that rain." Frustrated, Gibbs slammed his hand against one of the drawers, the sound echoing through the room. "Because he's the team's probie."

"Jethro, McGee has not been a probie for years." Ducky gave him a careful look before continuing. "It's easier to treat him like that, rather than admit the truth, isn't it?"

"Getting McGee back is the only thing right now." Not wanting to discuss, or even think about, his feeling for the younger man, Gibbs headed for the door.

"Agreed." Ducky waited until he was almost at the door. "But can you ignore your feelings once we have him back?"

Gibbs tensed up, but didn't slow down. He'd cross that bridge once they had McGee safely home.

-NCIS-

He screamed before he was fully conscious, but the jarring impact of being dumped onto the ground hurt like hell. Before his vision could clear, he was being dragged by his feet across the cold and muddy ground. The rain was still coming down and Tim screwed his eyes tight and tried to move one arm up to protect his face. By the time he'd accomplished that, he stopped moving.

The sound of metal against metal made his headache even worse, but more importantly he heard footsteps moving away. Slowly Tim opened his eyes, keeping his movements as subtle as possible. A door slammed to his right and Tim saw an old house. Moments later flickering lights came on inside. Candles, most likely as the place didn't look modern enough to have electricity or even running water. Knowing he was alone for the moment, Tim took in his circumstances. He was in a cage, something that had been used for animals at one time if the empty food bowls were any indication.

Heavy steel bars made up the edges with a thick gauge wire in a square pattern as the walls. Everything was either bolted or welded together and the door had a heavy padlock holding it shut. It wasn't quite tall enough for him to stand in and he wasn't sure it was long enough to lay flat in. If he'd been able to stretch out both arms, he would have touched both sides. The door faced the house, which meant if he tried to figure out the combination, he'd be in full sight of his captors. The roof was welded into place, so he turned his attention to the ground. The grass was several inches thick, but when he dug his fingers down through it, he encountered the same wire mesh. Even if he were strong enough to lift the cage, there would be no escape that way. Exhausted already, Tim turned his attention to the few bolts he could see. Heavy rust meant they couldn't be loosened without tools and time, neither of which he had at the moment. Resigned to being stuck for the foreseeable future, Tim next turned his attention to his injuries.

A concussion was obvious, even without Ducky or Tony there to remind him of the symptoms. His main concern was the bullet wound. Gently poking, he found a hole that didn't belong on him. He really didn't want to look, but he forced himself. Even without pulling the fabric away – and with the dried blood practically gluing his shirt to him, he really didn't want to do that – he could see that he was looking at an exit wound. That explained the pain in the back of his shoulder. Forcing himself to remember his anatomy, Tim was pretty sure the bullet had missed anything particularly vital. Of course the fact that he was still breathing confirmed that.

Without a piece of metal rattling around in him, blood loss and infection would be the two largest threats. Under the circumstances, infection was a foregone conclusion, so Tim focused on making sure he didn't lose any more blood. Luckily today was one of the rare days he'd worn a t-shirt under his dress shirt and after backing into the darkest corner of the cage he eased his knife out and poked it through the t-shirt. Tucking the knife back away so that it was hidden, he pulled on the fabric until the bottom ten inches was removed from the rest of the shirt. Only then did he ease his coat off and wrap the fabric loop around him to cover both entry and exit wounds and getting it secure. Painfully he struggled back into the coat just as the house door flew open.

This was the first real look Tim had gotten of his captors. This one was tall and muscular, a swastika roughly tattooed onto his neck. Prison tattoo, his mind offered, but he was more interested in what the man was carrying toward him.

-NCIS-

Vance had gotten the message the moment he'd finished his part of the budget meeting. His plans for a dinner up on the Hill were dashed and he had his driver take him directly back to the Yard. One look at the partial team assembled in the Bullpen and he knew his secretary hadn't over-reacted. "Status report?"

Dorneget and several others from Cybercrimes were hunched over monitors looking at various traffic feeds, but DiNozzo jumped to his feet. "The car used in the robbery was stolen three days ago from a neighborhood just north of Baltimore. Local PD is sending us everything they have."

"And the evidence from today?"

"Abby and Ziva are running it now. We've got stills from the security feed and Balboa's team is canvassing the area."

Gibbs arrived in the Bullpen, but before Vance could ask him anything, his phone rang. Gibbs barked out a terse "yeah?" before announcing that they were on their way and hanging up the phone. "Abby's got something."

-NCIS-

"Time to slop the pig."

Before Tim could work out what that meant, the contents of a metal bowl was tossed in the cage with him. Rancid meat, rotting vegetables and what looked to be some sort of dog kibble landed around him and Tim knew he'd been 'fed' for the evening. His captor laughed and went back inside as smoke could be seen coming from the chimney.

Staring at the mess, Tim remembered how long it had been since he'd eaten and wondered how long it would be before that slop started to look good. Giving a sigh, he curled up into a ball as best he could and tried to conserve his body heat. "Come on, guys, find me."

-NCIS-

"What ya' got, Abs?" Gibbs entered the lab at almost a dead run, DiNozzo and Vance almost jogging to keep up with him.

She smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. "Fingerprints from the cash register. Gibbs meet Robert Carpenter. Don't know what he did, but he's got a sealed juvenile record."

Vance already had his phone out. "I'll see about getting a judge to unseal those records."

Gibbs nodded at that, but was still looking at Abby and Ziva. "Got an address for Carpenter?"

Ziva handed over a slip of paper. "Last address of record was with his parents."

"Good. You two track down this bozo's probation officer."

"It is after hours, Gibbs."

He was already walking away. "Don't care how you do it, Ziva. Deep background on this kid, too, and find the other one."

-NCIS-

Gibbs didn't want to talk. Luckily, DiNozzo was used to filling the air himself and didn't notice but he did give Gibbs a funny look when they arrived at the Carpenters' home. Shoving his badge in the face of the man that answered the door, now Gibbs wanted to talk.

"You Robert Carpenter's father?"

Paunchy and short, with a careworn face, the question didn't seem to be a surprise. "What's he done now?"

"Robbed a place, shot a federal agent, kidnapping, accessory to another murder, and that's just for starters."

"Shit." Carpenter stepped back, allowing them in. "Mary, the police are here. Robbie's in trouble again."

Gibbs and DiNozzo stepped inside but it took a minute for Mary to get her ancient wheelchair down the hallway and into the living room. "You have to understand, he was a good boy. He just got mixed up with the wrong crowd."

He wasn't buying that for a second, but Gibbs had bigger concerns right now. "He and his partner kidnapped the agent he shot." Mary closed her eyes and started praying, so Gibbs turned to the father. "If we don't find our man alive..."

"When was the last time you saw your son, Mr. Carpenter?" It was a good thing Tony was keeping his cool, because Gibbs wasn't sure how much longer he could hold his as he waited for an answer.

"Month, maybe more. Robbie knows we don't approve of his ways, or his friends."

"This one of his friends?" Tony held out a screenshot of the still unidentified suspect.

"Yeah, Robbie calls him Z-man. That's all I know. The two of them were here about a month ago like I said. They ate all of our food and stole the last of Mary's mother's jewelry... and... my father's gun."

"Did you report it?"

"He's our only child. Being around the people he's with, I figured he needed the protection."

One of the stills was of Carpenter shooting McGee and DiNozzo shoved that at his father. "Who's protecting his victims?" Unsurprisingly, there was no answer.

Gibbs handed over one of his cards. "If you hear from him or think of anything else, you call us."

"Yeah, sure."

That was probably a lie, considering how they had already covered up one crime, so as soon as they were back in the car, Gibbs called in for a warrant to monitor the parents. Chances were, Robbie wouldn't make contact unless he thought he could get something out of them, but they'd cover every angle.

-NCIS-

There was food on their desks when Gibbs and DiNozzo returned. Neither man really wanted it under the circumstances, but they had to eat something to keep going. It was close to midnight, but Gibbs was glad to see that no one, not even the other teams, planned on going anywhere tonight.

Shifts were set up, allowing everyone to get a few hours sleep while the research continued and every possible sighting was followed up.

-NCIS-

"Gibbs, Robbie Carpenter's probation officer is here. Dorney just took him up to conference room four."

That got Gibbs and the rest of the team on their feet and up the stairs. The man waiting for them looked tired but immediately got to his feet. "Agent Gibbs? I'm Carter Jones. Sorry you had trouble tracking me down, but I've been out of town for a funeral. Flight arrived here at 0300 and when I turned my phone back on, I found more than a dozen messages so I figured it was pretty important. Judging from the activity, one of my boys is in trouble, right?"

"Robert Carpenter, what can you tell me about him?"

"Angry at the world, always convinced whatever is wrong is someone else's fault. What's he done?"

"Robbery. Shot and kidnapped a federal agent, member of my team."

Jones let out a low whistle. "That doesn't sound like Robbie."

Gibbs wasn't in the mood to argue about it. "We've got the damned thing on tape, his fingerprints on the cash register."

"That's not what I meant. Did he have a partner?"

"Yeah. That tell you something?"

"By himself, he's never been too dangerous, kid's not smart enough to plan something out, but he's a follower that craves attention."

That seemed to fit with what they already knew. Tony had the photos and Gibbs nodded at him. "This seems to be his current leader. You know him?"

Jones took the photo and looked at it closely. "He's familiar, I think I've seen him at the facility, but he's not one of my cases."

"Any way you can track him down for us?"

"If you give me access to a computer, I can try, but it's going to be hard with nothing to identify him."

Ziva reached over and took the folder from Tony, sorting through until she found what she was looking for. "There is a tattoo on his neck. It is a swastika."

"You sure?" Jones squinted to look closer while Ziva fingered the necklace around her own neck.

"I am sure."

"Well, that will help, but we've still got a lot of files to go through. Guy looks old enough that he's probably aged out of our program."

"If you track street names, we think he's called Z-man."

"That name sounds familiar, too. All right, get me a computer and I'll see what I can come up with. Some coffee would be great, too."

Gibbs nodded at that. He'd think clearer with a fresh cup, too. "DiNozzo, take him downstairs and have Dorney set him up. I'm going for coffee."

-NCIS-

It had been a long, cold night. Tim managed a few hours of sleep, a couple of minutes at a time, and now he was trying to stretch his muscles and get loosened up without attracting attention. His fingers were too cold and numb to feel his way through getting the combination for the lock, at least not without attracting attention. Somehow he was going to have to come up with plan B, and soon, before the infection and fever made him too weak to defend himself or escape.

-NCIS-

"Got him." Jones' words got them up on their feet as Dorney took over and sent the image up onto the plasma. "Thomas Zablocki. I was right, he aged out about six months ago. Don't know the details and his file is sealed, but I know his PO was convinced that he'd re-offend pretty quick."

Now they were getting somewhere. "Tony, BOLO on Zablocki. Jones, need to talk to his PO."

-NCIS-

"Hey, little piggy."

The words didn't bother him too much, but the long piece of steel rebar in his hand worried Tim. Painfully, he shifted around so that he was facing his visitor. It was the taller one again, the one that seemed to be in charge. "What do you want with me?"

"Gonna make you squeal like any good little piggy, but first I'm going to have a nice breakfast. You smell that?"

He hadn't, not until it was mentioned, but now the scent of frying bacon reminded him of how hungry he was and he couldn't help but moan. That earned him a laugh as the long rebar was poked into the cage to stir up the slop that had been thrown in the night before.

"I'd offer you some, little piggy, but you never ate your dinner." Laughing, he poked again, this time catching McGee on the leg. The scrape hurt and through the new rip in his slacks he could see the blood welling up, but he knew this was just the beginning.

-NCIS-

"Well?"

The newest arrival, Peter Hughes, shook his head. "Carter told me what Zablocki did. Can't say I'm surprised. I've had some bad ones over the years, but he was the worst."

That wasn't what Gibbs wanted to hear. "Worst, how? Anything you can tell us would be a big help." Ducky joined them with a nod. With any luck, he could piece together what their suspect would do with McGee.

"Parents and little brother killed in a house fire when Zablocki was ten. Possible arson, never solved."

"You think he did it?"

"Yeah, but it could never be proven. Suspect that young, by the time law enforcement takes it seriously, most of the evidence is gone. Couple of dozen foster families, nobody could handle him for more than a few months. Caught torturing animals when he was fourteen, that's when he ended up in juvie the first time. From there he bounced between juvie and group homes until he aged out. Spent the last six months of his sentence in the big house. Since I knew his background they kept me as his PO for the first few months until his file was fully transferred to the adult system. I checked on my way in, his new parole officer hasn't seen him since his first appointment."

Gibbs was furious that he hadn't been picked up earlier, before he and Carpenter had had a chance to hurt McGee. "And that didn't raise any red flags?"

Hughes gave a shrug. "It would have in our department."

"Great. Ziva, you and Abby start a deep background on this guy. I want to know every move he's made since he fell off the grid."

-NCIS-

His tormentor was back, but this time he was building a fire in a metal barrel, after he handed McGee's SIG to his partner. Tim watched nervously as his other abductor danced and cackled in glee.

"This is going to be so cool, Z-man. You going to let me play, too?"

"Maybe. He squeals for me first, though."

He was so cold and it was so tempting to move closer to the fire, but Tim had a very bad feeling about what the two of them had planned for him, so instead he stayed in the far corner of his cage and watched. Eventually the fire was hot enough that the warmth even reached him. Then Z-man stuck the piece of rebar into the fire and Tim knew he was in serious trouble.

"Is the little piggy cold? You want to be warm?"

Yes, but not like this. Biting his lip, Tim tried to shift around enough that he could move, but the wave of dizziness threatened to put him flat on the ground. As cold as he was, he had to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. The infection was taking hold and Tim knew that he was rapidly running out of time to do anything to save himself.

As he suspected, when the metal rod was removed from the fire, the end was glowing red. Tim tried to bat it away when it was shoved through the wire mesh, but he wasn't quick enough and screamed as the skin on his side burned and blistered. He had just enough time to slap the smoldering embers out on his shirt before he was attacked again. This time instead of trying to stop it, he turned so that the thicker fabric of his jacket blunted the burn.

The rebar was returned to the flame but judging from the angry look, things were far from over.

-NCIS-

"I might have something, Gibbs."

Ziva's words brought the team to her desk. "What is it?"

"A few weeks before he went off the grid, Thomas Zablocki's grandfather died."

"You think that's what set him off?" Even as Gibbs asked, it didn't sound right. Zablocki didn't strike him as the kind of lowlife that would care about anybody.

"No, but his grandfather was a – what do you call it – a hermit. He had a cabin out in the woods."

"Perfect place to hide a hostage, Boss."

DiNozzo was right and Gibbs felt a little glimmer of hope. "Ziva, Abby, get a location for us. Tony, see if you can find any of the grandfather's friends that might still be alive, see if they know where it was."

"Yes, Gibbs."

"Got it."

"Aye aye, Bossman."

-NCIS-

At this point Tim didn't know what hurt worst, the burns to his chest or the hard jabs to his back. His attacker had too tight of a grip on the rod to really deflect it, considering how the small openings in the mesh helped to line up the hits.

Finally a deer came through the woods and caught Zablocki's eye, distracting him for a moment. Tim grabbed the rod and shoved, using the opening in the mesh as a pivot point. That not only knocked the rebar out of Zablocki's hands, it hit him in the process.

Laughter chased the deer back into the woods. "Well look at that. Little piggy wants to play after all."

Painfully, slowly, Tim used the rod as a support and dragged himself to his feet, straightening up as much as the confined space and his injuries would allow. "Bring it on."

-NCIS-

"Leesburg." Tony was scrambling to his feet and grabbing his weapon and gear even before he dropped the handset back into the phone's cradle. "According t the nurse that took care of him, Gramps had a place somewhere north of Leesburg."

North of Leesburg still covered a lot of area, but it was at least a direction. Gibbs was into his coat before he was fully standing. "Let's move it, people."

Ziva was also on her feet and Abby was taking over fully at the computer. "Go! I'll get into the land records of Loudoun County and send you the exact GPS location."

"Get the locals out there too, but tell them not to move in unless they have a visual on McGee. Ziva, you're driving." The three remaining members of the team loaded into the elevator, pulling on hats, coats and gloves as they went.

-NCIS-

McGee was standing in the middle of the cage, leaning heavily on the metal rod he'd wrestled away from his abuser. He couldn't use the rod to defend himself, but there wasn't another piece of metal long enough to hit him with either. It might look like a stalemate, but Tim's plan was to get one of them to open the cage door to try and reach him. He slid his least injured arm into place so that his hand was close to the knife still hidden in his belt. It was small, too small to hit any vital organ in a man's torso, and he'd probably only have one shot at disabling someone, but he had a plan.

As he suspected, it was the ringleader that unlocked the cage, the one called Z-man. "Ready to dance, piggy?"

Tim didn't bother to answer, just adjusted his stance and prepared to be rushed. Zablocki made a showing of dancing around before he stepped closer. Tim needed to be out of the cage so he made an attempt at jabbing the rebar at him. As suspected, Zablocki caught it and pulled. Instead of fighting, Tim went with it, finding himself toe to toe with the other man just past the door. With what felt like his last bit of strength, he pulled the knife out of his belt and slashed at Zablocki's throat. The splash of blood that hit his face told him that he'd been successful.

"Robbie! Robbie!" Zablocki staggered backwards as the blood continued to spray with each heartbeat. Robbie was staring, momentarily memorized by the blood, but Tim knew it wouldn't last long. Robbie was between him and what looked to be the driveway, so Tim turned the opposite direction. Praying he'd have more than a two second head start, he started running for the woods, hoping to get well hidden before the adrenaline was gone.

-NCIS-

The silence in the car was tense as it flew down the highway. Tony's phone rang, making both he and Gibbs jump. Tony didn't have time to analyze Gibbs' reaction as he answered the call, Abby's voice loud enough for all of them to hear.

 _Tony, Tony, Tony, I found the place. It doesn't even have a actual street address, but I'm sending you the GPS coordinates. Now find McGee and bring him home._

He was already reaching for the on-board GPS. "On it, Abs."

Ziva glanced down at the device and prepared for a sharp turn. "What if McGee is not there?"

Gibbs didn't answer, but that look was back on his face, so Tony answered. "He has to be, Ziva. He has to be."


	4. Chapter 4

Story Four - Baby, It's Cold Outside

"Robbie!" Zablocki dropped to his knees, still clutching his throat and Robbie stared at him, not knowing what to do. Help Z-man and let the fed get away, or go after the fed? Now on the ground, Zablocki's hands fell away from his neck as the blood continued to pump, each spray a little less forceful than the one before.

"Z-man?" Moving closer, he nudged him with his foot but there was no response as the blood finally stopped. "Z-man?" Staring into the woods where McGee had disappeared, Robbie cursed and pulled out his gun. He stared at it in his hand before shoving it back into his belt and pulling out the larger handgun Zablocki had taken from the fed. It was time to go hunting.

-NCIS-

"There, that was the driveway." At Tony's yell, Ziva slammed on the brakes, struggling to keep the sedan on the slick, wet roadway The temperature was starting to drop and it was getting close to freezing. As soon as she could, she threw it into reverse and backed up the fifty feet needed to make the turn. The driveway was not what she was expecting, more of a beaten down path, but she put the headlights up on high and avoided the larger of the rocks.

Just because they were on the grandfather's property, they still didn't know exactly where the house was. With over twenty acres, most of it heavily wooded, they all just hoped the driveway would lead them there. They'd beat the locals here so at the moment they were on their own.

Finally, just when they were about to run out of driveway, a rundown cabin came into view, but it was what they saw off to the side that caught their attention, a body sprawled out on the ground, unmoving.

Gibbs had his door open before Ziva slowed. "No, God, no." He tumbled out, Tony just a few steps behind him, rushing to the body. "It's not him, it's not McGee."

"It's Zablocki." Tony looked carefully, wincing at the gaping slash that had severed his carotid artery, before he reached out to touch the body. "He's still warm. This was recent."

Ziva had brought the flashlights from the car and they quickly looked around, paying close attention to the now open cage.

"McGee was here, Boss."

"Yeah, but where is he now?" Showing a rare fit of anger, Gibbs shook Zablocki's body. "Where is he?"

Tony caught his arm. "Zablocki's dead, Boss, he can't tell us anything." He didn't know if he'd gotten through to the older man, but a gunshot in the distance halted the conversation.

-NCIS-

Tim knew without a doubt that Robbie was going to catch up to him. Maybe if he'd been uninjured, well-rested and fed, he might have managed it, but under the circumstances, it was a foregone conclusion. His one chance was to find someplace to hide. Then he might be able to double back and find help. Lungs burning and vision fading, he pressed on, flinching as a gunshot shattered a nearby branch. He stumbled and started sliding down a steep embankment.

-NCIS-

 _He killed Z-man. That fucking pig killed Z-man._ The large weapon felt so good in his hand, so much better than the little peashooter he'd taken from his old man. Now he was going to use it to get his revenge. He spotted the fed running through the trees, stumbling like he was drunk or something. Grinning, Robbie drew down on his target. He really wasn't trying to hit him quite yet. No, he was going to have some fun first. He fired a shot, laughing at how the pig ducked, tripping over his own feet as chunks of the dead tree hit his side.

"Sooie, Sooie." Imitating a hog call he'd heard on television once, Robbie taunted the injured man, knowing that there was only one way out of the deep ravine he was sliding into. He'd circle around and be waiting for him on the other side. "There's no way out, piggy. Gonna be like shooting fish in a barrel."

Before he got too far, yelling could be heard and he realized their hiding spot had been discovered.

"Shit."

Looking around, Carpenter spotted a woman wearing a jacket like their hostage, running toward him, so he fired one more time before changing direction. This time he aimed.

-NCIS-

Unable to walk, Tim crawled and dragged himself further away from his surviving captor. He hadn't meant to end up trapped down in this deep crevasse, but he hadn't been able to stop the slide. Hearing Robbie call him like some damned pig pissed him off, but he didn't have the energy to respond, just try to crawl faster. Another shot, but this time a hot pain lanced through his leg and Tim tumbled further down, clear to the bottom where the brush was so thick that he couldn't see back up to the top.

He couldn't move any further and Tim let his head drop onto the ground as the rain started again. "I'm sorry, Boss, I tried." Giving in to his certain fate, Tim curled up as best he could and let the exhaustion take him away from the pain and the cold.

-NCIS-

"Spread out, find them." Gibbs paced along the flattened down path, looking at each clue. Someone had been along here, and recently. Another shot could be heard and they all picked up the pace, looking along the horizon for any sign of anyone. The rain increased and the wind picked up, but at least the lightening strikes were far enough away that they weren't in any immediate danger. The next flash of light showed the silhouette of someone running, gun in hand. They all started running, all three with guns drawn.

"Freeze!"

"NCIS, drop your weapon."

"Carpenter, don't make it any harder for yourself."

He seemed to look back at them before running even faster. Ziva drew down on him and Tony shoved her arm down. "We need him alive. He's the only one that knows where McGee is."

-NCIS-

The voices were familiar and pulled him back from the darkness. "Gibbs? Tony? Find me, Gibbs."

-NCIS-

The minute Tony's hand left her arm, Ziva aimed again and fired. Their suspect twisted, then went down, clutching his leg, so she turned to look Tony directly in the eye. "We do not have time to continue chasing him. McGee needs us now."

Tony didn't seem to have an answer for that and they ran, trying to catch up with Gibbs as he closed in on the suspect. He'd dropped his weapon to hold onto his leg and they all recognized that it was McGee's SIG that Tony kicked out of his reach.

Carpenter was crying, the blood welling up around his fingers. "It hurts."

That made Ziva smile just a bit but Gibbs grabbed his shirt and shook him hard. "Not as much as it's going to. Where's McGee?"

Carpenter just cried harder. "She shot me."

Ziva felt her eyes widen as Gibbs pulled his own weapon back out and pressed the barrel against Carpenter's forehead. "If you don't tell me right now, the next bullet will be mine." She'd seen Gibbs threaten a suspect before, she'd threatened suspects before, but the look in his eyes told her this was not a 'get the suspect to talk' threat. She glanced over at Tony, who looked up at her, apparently also worried.

"Gibbs?"

Instead of answering, Gibbs twisted his hand, grinding the barrel against Carpenter's skin. "Tell me."

"Don't shoot. Don't shoot. The gully – he fell down the gully. It's too steep to climb back up, not when it's wet like this."

Gibbs threw their suspect back down onto the ground and Ziva took over watching him while Gibbs and Tony eased to the edge where Carpenter had pointed. Their flashlights didn't show much, but the next flash of lightening showed the deep crevice in the ground. "McGee? McGee, can you hear me?"

Next to him, Tony was also looking, swinging his flashlight in a wide arc as he called in their approximate location. "Do you see him, Boss?"

"Not yet." Gibbs was moving along the edge, shining his light along the underbrush. After about twenty feet, he stopped and pointed out broken branches. "There, that's where he went over the edge." Instead of waiting for the rescue teams that were coming, Gibbs started a controlled slide down.

Cursing under his breath, Tony looked back at Ziva to make sure she had the suspect under control, then cursed again before following him down.

-NCIS-

"McGee? Tim, can you hear me?" Gibbs tried to both listen and watch for any sign of how far McGee had fallen. More broken branches, these with blood on them. That had to be recent, since the water had not totally washed it away and he listened closer.

 _Gibbs?_

It was faint, faint enough that he wasn't sure if his mind was playing tricks on him. "Tim? Where are you?"

 _Here._

With a direction, Gibbs pressed on, sliding another fifteen feet downwards to the very bottom. The brambles and saplings were so thick down here that it was hard to move and behind him he could hear Tony struggling to get through. Almost on his hands and knees, he searched and pushed, trying to hear anything else. "Tim? Tim?"

-NCIS-

"Shit, shit, shit." Tony found the only way down was to sit on his butt and slide as he felt his pants rip and the mud made him slimy. Gibbs was too intense to leave to do this alone, he wasn't sure how the older man would react if McGee were badly hurt or – God forbid – didn't survive. Gibbs was calling out and acted like he'd heard something, but Tony didn't hear it. Further down they went and Tony struggled with the backpack getting snagged. It was tempting to slip out of it, but he had some basic first aid supplies in there and with any luck they'd need them. If not, the space blanket would have a second usage. Slapping his own head, he forced that thought away.

"Tim? Tim?"

"Did you find him?"

"Not yet."

Gibbs was on his hand and knees, feeling around as if their missing man would be hiding under a few leafs. He'd slowed down enough that Tony finally caught up with him and for that he was grateful. "Boss?"

"He's here, someplace, Tony. We'll find him."

Tony wasn't so sure but he had faith, both in his boss and in the man they were searching for. Finally, Gibbs apparently grabbed a hold of something he liked.

"McGee! Tony, I've got him. Get the medics."

Swinging his flashlight around, Tony saw Gibbs pulling McGee out from under a large bush. He was white with almost a blueish tint to his skin and Tony cursed as he tried to pull out his phone again with nearly numb fingers. He made the call by rote as he watched Gibbs pull McGee close, giving him a hard sternum rub, looking for some kind of response.

-NCIS-

"McGee? Damn it, McGee, don't give up on me." Gibbs tried a second time, rubbing hard enough on Tim's chest that even his own knuckles hurt from the pressure. A slight groan was his reward. "Thank God. Stay with me, Tim. You're safe now, we've got you."

Tony was on the phone with someone, trying to explain the path they'd taken from the run down house, so Gibbs concentrated on McGee. He was beyond pale, a blue tint around his lips, and cold to the touch. At the moment he looked like one of the bodies on Ducky's table and the thought made Gibbs shudder. Tim wasn't dead and he wasn't going to be any time soon, not if he had anything to say about it. What he was, was cold – hypothermia, probably, and Gibbs knew they had to start getting him warmed up.

Shifting around in the cold, slimy mud that seemed to try to suck him down, Gibbs sat next to Tim and pulled him up onto his lap. With one hand holding McGee upright it was a little awkward but he got his coat unzipped and managed to get Tim close enough to hopefully share some of his body heat. Tony was moving closer, fumbling with his backpack and then Gibbs saw a flash as Tony started unfolding a silver Mylar blanket. As Tony held it out, Gibbs pulled it around them, wrapping it as tightly as he could.

"Thanks."

"Storm's got all the choppers grounded, but Sheriff and State Police are almost here. Ambulance is right behind them." Tony tugged his stocking cap off and put it on McGee's head. "How bad?"

Gibbs shifted them around enough that he could feel the very faint puffs of air that meant Tim was still breathing. "He's alive."

Yelling could be heard up above and a few seconds later a beam of light fluttered around them. Tony backed up enough to stand and get help down to them while Gibbs held Tim, murmuring nonsense just to give Tim something to grasp a hold of. Out of the corner of his eye he caught something being thrown down and then Tony returned opening a bag of first aid supplies.

-NCIS-

Tony had never been so grateful in his life as when he caught the tossed first aid kit. He had a Mylar emergency blanket with him and some bandages and ointments, but one look at McGee's injuries had told him that wasn't going to do much good beyond the blanket. Ripping the pack open as he moved back to Gibbs and McGee, he dug out the pressure bandages.

The fresh blood was coming from McGee's leg, so that was what he wrapped up first, not liking at all how cold the skin was to the touch. Gibbs wasn't reacting normally either, which didn't help Tony's nerves. Carefully pulling the blanket back enough to see, he found the second, older bullet wound. Back to front, right under his shoulder, it looked like it had missed most of everything vital.

"Can you lift him up a bit, Boss?"

"Yeah."

Something about the tenderness hit Tony in the gut, but he focused on what he was doing and got the second pressure bandage in place before wrapping the emergency blanket back around the two men. McGee stirred without opening his eyes.

"You're safe, Tim. I've got you."

"B'ss?"

"Yeah, Buddy, I'm right here." Gibbs pulled him close and Tony felt like he was watching their relationship changing somehow.

"You found me."

"Always." Gibbs wrapped himself more around McGee to almost whisper in his ear. "I'll always find you."

More voices could be heard up above, so Tony shifted his attention to the new arrivals. "We need to get him out of here, now."

"Chopper's still grounded, ambulance is almost here. Is there room down there for rescue, or do you want us to just send the backboard down there?"

There was room, maybe, but to be honest Tony didn't want strangers around Gibbs and McGee right now. "Send it down. We'll get him on it."

"Okay. Here, head's up."

Tony looked up in time to catch another bag, this one smaller than the first aid kit. Opening it, he found a pile of emergency heat packs. "Thanks." Moving back to Gibbs and McGee, he started opening and shaking them.

Once he had the first three getting warm, he started tucking them under the blanket, up against McGee. "You're going to be okay, Tim."

McGee's teeth were starting to chatter as his body became more responsive and aware of the cold. "Where's... where's..."

Gibbs wrapped his arms even tighter against him. "He's in custody, Tim. They're never coming near you again."

McGee didn't say anything, but he started moving, twisting around as if he was trying to reach for something.

"Easy, easy, don't move around. What are you trying to get?"

"Pocket."

The two men were too wrapped together for Tony to help so he had to wait while Gibbs reached down to the apparent pocket. It took him a minute, but he smiled as he apparently found what Tim needed. Tony's curiosity won out. "Boss?"

Gibbs' hand came up, holding a set of handcuffs. "You make sure Ziva gets those on McGee's prisoner?"

Tony felt his face crease into a matching smile. "You bet." He had to move back about ten feet to get to where the shrubbery was thin enough to make the toss before yelling out to the deputy up there. "Hey, tell Agent David to use these on the prisoner, okay?"

He had to be careful, because if the toss wasn't successful they probably wouldn't find the cuffs until spring, but it worked and the deputy stared at the handcuffs he was now holding, probably wondering what was so different about this pair as opposed to every other pair in the forest at the moment. Tony watched him shrug and move away toward where Ziva was waiting with Carpenter.

-NCIS-

Ziva was getting more and more annoyed with her prisoner and if he didn't stop whining pretty soon, she's claim he'd tried to escape so she could shoot him again. "Shut up, you are not dying."

"But it hurts. I'm still bleeding."

"Perhaps you will remember this the next time you hurt someone else." They watched as more law enforcement officers arrived and a bag with a large red cross was tossed down to her teammates. She breathed a sigh of relief. If they needed first aid supplies, then McGee was still alive.

"Hey, what about me. Aren't they going to treat my wound?"

She just tightened her grasp on the twisted arm. Sure, she could put cuffs on him, but personally pinning him was so much more satisfying. Carpenter whimpered again and she smiled.

It was a surprise when one of the deputies came up to her. Up until this point, they had not interfered with her handling of the prisoner. The deputy smiled and handed over a pair of handcuffs. One glance and she could tell they were federal issue, not from the locals and she wondered what Gibbs or Tony meant by them.

"Here, your injured guy wanted you to have these. I don't know why."

Now it made sense and she gave Carpenter a feral grin. "These are Agent McGee's handcuffs. After everything you did to him, you will still leave here as his prisoner." Just to make sure, she put them on extra tight, both she and the deputy smiling at the whimper.

She could have waited for a stretcher, but instead she pulled him to his feet, the deputy grabbing his other arm when Carpenter almost went back down. "Come, we will get started. It is a long walk back."

"But my leg?"

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you shot and kidnapped a federal agent, yes?"

"It was Z-man's idea to take him with us." Carpenter was sobbing now and Ziva had no sympathy for him.

"He is dead and you are the only one left to take the trip, no, fall." Pleased she'd gotten that one corrected herself, Ziva tugged on his arm, dragging him along.

-NCIS-

"Here."

Tony looked up as ropes and harnesses were tossed down to him before a backboard was eased down. The board caught on some bushes, causing the rescue workers up top to tug on the rope, pulling it slightly back up before it came loose. On their second attempt, Tony was there to help guide it down. He hated to separate Gibbs and McGee, but they needed to get the injured man topside where help was waiting for them. First, he dragged the backboard as close as he could to them. "Boss?"

Gibbs looked over and gave a nod before turning his attention to McGee. "We're going to get you out of here, Tim. Just let Tony and I do all the work, okay?"

Once they got a nod they worked quickly to get McGee onto the board, making sure the emergency blanket was wrapped around him as tightly as possible before strapping him tightly in place. After they had him secure, they dragged the board and McGee back to where the harnesses were waiting.

It was a slow trek back up to safety, even with plenty of workers pulling on all the ropes. Gibbs and Tony concentrated on keeping McGee as level as possible and let the others handle the heavy part of getting them back up. Eventually they were back on solid ground and an ambulance stretcher was waiting for them. Backboard and all, McGee was laid down and they moved out.

The trip back to the cabin seemed much longer and Tony got a chance to watch Gibbs with McGee. There was a tenderness along with a fierce protectiveness that spoke volumes and he wondered if Gibbs even realized it yet. That made him smile. It wasn't very often he got one over on the boss. Arriving at the ambulance, it wasn't a surprise that Gibbs climbed in with McGee.

"Call Vance, let him know."

"You got it, Boss. Take care of him." That was a given.

-NCIS-

"I'm sorry, sir. You'll have to wait out here."

Gibbs stared at the hand against his chest, but it was the hand on his arm that got through to him. "Come on, Boss, let's get some coffee." With one final look at the stretcher vanishing behind the ER doors, Gibbs finally gave a nod.

"Yeah, okay."

It smelled burnt, but Gibbs went to the coffee cart right outside the waiting area, and ordered a cup. He didn't comment, but he did smirk at the amount of creamer and sugar that Tony put in his own coffee.

Tony gave a shrug. "Hey, at least it's warm, right?"

"Yeah." The warmth of the cup in his hand contrasted with the memory of Tim's nearly freezing hand in his and it was all Gibbs could do not to crush the paper cup. "Warm."

"He's going to be okay, Boss. They'll patch him up and warm him up; then we can take care of him. We'll have him back on his feet in no time."

Gibbs found himself being pushed into a chair and was surprised that they'd moved so far from the coffee kiosk. "Those bastards kept him in a cage, DiNozzo. They tortured him."

"Boss, we don't know-"

"I saw it, DiNozzo." Gibbs bit back a curse when the hot coffee sloshed out of the cup and splashed onto his hand. "He's got burns all over his chest. Not cigarettes, they're too big for cigarettes, and whatever it was, burned right through his shirt."

The hand on his arm once again stalled his rage. "We'll get him through this. You'll get him through this."

Damn straight I will – it was on the tip of his tongue, but the second ambulance from the scene finally arrived and Gibbs jumped to his feet to watch Ziva escort the prisoner back to be examined. He was wheeled in on a stretcher, which pissed him off, but Carpenter looked terrified of Ziva, which pleased him greatly.

-NCIS-

"What have we got?"

The nurse was brisk and efficient. "White male, mid-thirties, shot and kidnapped approximately twenty-four hours ago. Held hostage outdoors, signs of torture. Apparently escaped his captors, was shot a second time in the process and fell down an embankment."

Dr. Lewis looked down at his patient. Most of his clothing had been cut off and he was wrapped in several warming blankets, especially around his torso, and was being given warm, moist oxygen.

"Core body temperature?"

"Thirty-one point one."

Lewis was old school enough that he'd rather be given the information in Fahrenheit, but the resulting eighty-seven point nine wasn't sounding a whole lot better. On the other hand, the cold had probably stopped him from bleeding to death. Getting him warmed up and getting the wounds treated would be of equal importance. Then there was the very real possibility that his patient's older wound was already infected. That meant that things could go south very quickly when his body started to warm back and and they needed to be ready.

"Warm saline is ready, Dr. Lewis."

"Not yet. Type and cross-match, blood draw for CBC and cultures, then hang a wide spectrum antibiotic with that saline and start it. We got x-rays yet?" The arrival of the portable x-ray machine answered that question and he poked and prodded the two gunshot wounds as the tech set up. "Both wounds are through and through, let's see if there's any bone damage. How soon can we get a CAT scan?"

"As soon as I'm done here, if needed." The tech waved the rest of the staff out of the room as he took x-rays of both their patient's upper torso and lower leg.

Out in the hallway, one of the nurses continued to fill him in. "The patient is a federal agent. Once member of his team came in with him in the ambulance and is out in the waiting room. We've got an OR on standby and Dr. Taylor is on his way in."

Lewis nodded at that. They were a small hospital, but Taylor was a bright young surgeon brought to them by a federal program to work in under-served areas in exchange for a substantial reduction in student loans. Somehow it seemed fitting that Taylor would be the one to operate on the injured man. "Good, I'll scrub in as his second."

A second victim was rolled past them, wearing a pressure bandage and handcuffs, escorted by several deputies and a dark haired woman wearing a badge at her waist and Lewis caught the attention of one of the ambulance attendants. "How many more should we expect?"

"The other suspect was dead at the scene, Doc. This one somebody's supposed to patch up enough to transport him to DC to face charges."

"Fine. Put him in Room Three." Dr. Lewis gave the latest patient a quick look. Judging from the fact that he was struggling against his cuffs and cursing everyone in the hallway that wasn't blessed with blonde hair and blue eyes, he was in no immediate danger.

"You are treating Agent McGee, yes? How is he?"

The lilt and accent to her voice made him wish he was twenty years younger. "As soon as we get him a little more stable, we'll have him in surgery." The x-rays were done and the door opened back up. "Would you like to see him for just a minute?"

"Thank you. I was with the suspect and did not get to see him after he was rescued."

Ushered inside, she went straight to the bed, leaning close and avoiding all the equipment that surrounded the patient. "You are going to be fine, McGee and we will have you home very soon."

-NCIS-

"They let me see him for a moment."

Ziva's words got Gibbs instantly back on his feet. "What did they say? How is he?"

She frowned slightly, as she slowly repeated back what she'd heard. "They are still getting him stabilized, then they will operate."

"He's still not stable?" Gibbs didn't like the sound of that at all as he turned to DiNozzo. "Ducky's on his way, right?"

"I called Vance and he said he'd let the others know. You want me to call and make sure he's on his way here?" Gibbs knew he was glaring, but it got Tony back on his phone.

-NCIS-

"That is the doctor I saw with McGee."

Gibbs hadn't bothered to sit back down so he was able to easily meet the doctor before he moved very far into the waiting area. "Tim McGee, how is he?"

"And you are?"

"Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, Tim's my man."

"Of course. I'm Dr. Lewis, I've been treating him since he was brought in. We're prepping him for surgery right now."

Gibbs let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "You've got him stabilized, then?"

"Yes. More importantly, we've got his body temperature back up to the low end of normal. That was our biggest concern. Even with moderate hypothermia, we don't really relax until we've got a steady sinus rhythm and a safe body temperature at the same time."

"So, he'll be all right?"

"Bullet wound to his leg is messy, with a hairline fracture. Looks like that wound was from a larger bullet than the shoulder wound. We'll clean up the wound tract, repair as much of the muscle damage as we can. It'll take some time and physical therapy, but he shouldn't have any major lasting problems. In the shoulder wound, there's minimal bone damage, just a chip it looks like, and there was less tearing of the muscles since it was a smaller projectile. Unfortunately, he's got a pretty good infection brewing in there. We've got him on a broadband antibiotic, then when the cultures come back we can focus that a little more. Basically, he'll bounce back well enough, it just won't be quick."

The knot in his chest eased up a bit. "Time, we've got."

"Good. Now, speaking of time, surgery is going to take four or five hours, so go get yourself something to eat. Cafeteria sucks, but there's a pretty good diner about a mile from here, main road, on the left."

No way in hell he was leaving while McGee was under the knife, but he appreciated the suggestion. "Okay, maybe later."

-NCIS-

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs." Abby was in full panic mode when she came running into the waiting room, Ducky rushing to keep up with her. Tony took one look at the expression on Gibbs' face and moved to intercept her.

"Easy, Abs, he's gonna be okay. He's stable and in surgery."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Tony lowered his voice and pulled her closer. "Go easy on Gibbs. This has hit him hard."

She gave him a questioning look, then turned and watched Gibbs for a moment. Apparently coming to the same conclusion as Tony, she nodded before continuing on and quietly curling up against the older man. As Tony watched, Gibbs accepted the comfort, kissing the top of her head before resuming his watch of the door as Ducky used his credentials to slip inside.

-NCIS-

"Jethro?"

Everybody jumped to their feet as Ducky walked up to Gibbs, but they waited for him to answer. "Duck, how is he?"

"Out of surgery and relatively stable."

He knew that his old friend would pick up on that word. "Relatively?"

"We won't completely relax until the infection is fully under control, but the surgery itself went well. He's in recovery and will be for another hour or so, then they'll move him to intensive care where they can better monitor him. Depending on how well he responds to the antibiotics, we will be able to transfer him to a hospital closer to home in a day or two."

"Can we see him?"

Luckily, he'd already had this conversation with Dr. Lewis and Dr. Taylor. "Only one person while he's in recovery, I'm afraid." Ducky bit back a smile at how Tony subtly tugged Abby back when she wanted to jump forward. "Once he's been moved to the ICU, he can have more visitors, but only two at a time and for just a few minutes each."

There was no argument when Gibbs followed Ducky back. It was tempting to ask, but Ducky decided that this was a time where discretion was definitely the better part of valor. He knew he'd made the right call when they reached McGee's bedside and he could watch Gibbs bend down and tenderly brush back McGee's hair.

"You're safe now, Tim. You made it."

"B'ss?"

"I'm here, just rest." Gibbs stroked his thumb across McGee's forehead several more times until the other man was deeply asleep again before looked back over his shoulder at Ducky. "He's really going to be all right?"

"Yes, with time and," Ducky smiled as he understood what he was watching, "some care, he will make a full recovery."

"Good."

* * *

 **A/N - In case you were wondering about the prompts, the first four were:**

 **1 - Caught in a robbery**

 **2 - Disappearing**

 **3 - Wild Card (I chose captivity)**

 **4 - Hypothermia**

 **And the prompt for tomorrow is - Scars - which concludes this arc.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N – This is it, the last mini-story to complete the full story. Yes, I know I could go on, but the ending moment is where this story started in my head and I'm satisfied with that. Plus, so many other things to write and finish. I am working on a challenge that is due at the end of the month – don't know if I'll make it, but I'm giving it a try along with the trope bingo. On the medical front with my son things are not improving at all so any and all positive thoughts would be appreciated. The Patient Advocate is now involved and demanding a meeting with the entire neurology/surgical staff so hopefully things will start moving in the right direction. Have a great weekend all.**

* * *

Story Five - Healing Scars

It had been four weeks, three separate trips to the operating room and two hospitals, but McGee was finally being released today. He was way too thin, easily tired and chilled and still on antibiotics, but the doctors at Bethesda and Ducky had all agreed the rest of his recovery could happen in the care of his team.

Tony hadn't been surprised when Gibbs announced that McGee would be recovering at his place, but he felt that a quick check was in order, so he'd decided to show up bright and early that morning, just to make sure.

"Hey, Boss."

Gibbs glanced down at his watch before raising an eyebrow. "DiNozzo? You're up awfully early."

"Just wanted to see if you needed any last minute help." He and Abby had talked about it a lot over the last few weeks and they'd both come to the conclusion that neither man had any idea of how their relationship was changing and they'd decided that a little nudge was in order. "I mean, I don't think McGee's shoulder is up to sleeping on the couch quite yet."

Gibbs rolled his eyes, which was a very good sign. "I'm not making him sleep on the couch."

"Well, that's good." Actually, it was very, very good, but Tony wanted to make sure. "It's just that the upstairs here doesn't seem to see a while lot of action and..." _Come on, Gibbs, take the hint._

"You want to check and make sure it's up to snuff?" _Yes!_ There was more than a touch of sarcasm in Gibbs' tone, but at least it got Tony upstairs to check. Abby wanted him to slip some lube into a drawer someplace, but he thought that was pushing it a bit far.

Nevertheless, Tony bounded up the stairs two at a time. Usually Gibbs would head him off at the pass when he tried to go upstairs, so he'd never actually seen any of the bedrooms, which ground him to a halt once he'd reached the top of the stairs. He was in a small landing, surrounded by closed doors. Barging into Kelly's old bedroom would put a dampener on the mood they were hoping to encourage between Gibbs and McGee and walking into the bathroom would just be weird. Luckily, Gibbs was right behind him and opened one of the doors.

The room was larger than he was expecting, filled with light from the picture window. The bed was an antique and made up with a masculine looking comforter set. Probably one of those bed in a bag sets that most department stores sold, but it was new and fresh and comfortable looking and that was what mattered.

Besides the bedding, the other obviously new feature in the room was the flat screen TV mounted on the wall opposite the bed, generations apart from the ancient tube set down in the living room. "No rabbit ears?"

That earned him an eye roll. "Cable was installed yesterday."

Tony was very pleased with that addition. "Downstairs, too?"

"The installer didn't have the right connector for that television."

He managed not to laugh, but it was close. "Had he actually ever seen a television that old before, Boss?"

"Why are you here again, DiNozzo?

This time he did laugh. "Just making sure you're ready for Tim, Boss." Casually he checked the closet. The clothes he'd picked up from McGee's place were mostly hanging up. He assumed the sweats and t-shirts were in the dresser, but checking on that probably would be pushing his luck. Several books were on the nightstand and unless McGee had suddenly picked up an interest in westerns, it looked to be a mix of books for both men. That suggested Gibbs was planning on spending significant time up here. Pleased, he was ready to leave. "Abby is bringing food for you guys later but give a holler if you need anything."

-NCIS-

DiNozzo finally out of the house, Gibbs was ready to go to the hospital. Ducky was meeting him there to review McGee's post-hospital care. Ziva had been practical and efficient in helping him get ready for McGee to stay, but the rest of the team had been oddly annoying and repeatedly under foot. Like now, as he was walking out to the car, Abby was pulling in, a large casserole dish wedged into the passenger seat. Dinner for tonight was great, but it was only 0730.

"Little early, aren't you?"

"Are you on your way to pick up McGee? Oh, that's so great." She clapped and gave him a hug, not offended at all when he rolled his eyes. Twice in one day, he must be losing his touch. "I'm just going to stick this in the refrigerator for you. The reheating directions are on the lid."

Yep, there was a post-it note stuck to the lid. "I think I can handle that."

"I'm so proud of you, Gibbs." She gave him another hug, this one longer and even tighter. He really needed to figure out what in the hell was going on with her and DiNozzo.

"Reheating food isn't exactly rocket science, Abby."

Way too perky, she finally let go of him and grabbed the pot instead. He was really ready to leave, but her enthusiasm after Tony's early arrival pinged his gut. Not bad, but something was definitely up, so he followed her back inside.

Dinner went into the fridge as promised, but then she started looking around the house, frowning at the television in the living room. "Don't you think it's about time you replaced this old thing, Gibbs?"

"Why? It works fine. Besides, I just bought one for upstairs."

"Upstairs? Really?" She seemed way too happy for such a simple thing.

"Yeah, well, Ducky doesn't want McGee overdoing it. Especially these first few days."

"That's great, Gibbs. Too bad you don't have internet. I could bring him a laptop to play on."

And there were the puppy dog eyes. He was glad this time he'd beaten her to the punch. "Have it, Abs. Bundled with the new cable service. Ooff." The flying hug almost tackled him to the ground, but he managed to stay on his feet even if he were a good five feet back from where they started. "No computer for the first week, though. I don't want him to feel like he needs to check on work."

"You got it, Boss-man. Are you sure his room is ready? McGee's more used to creature comforts than you are, Gibbs."

Did everyone think him incapable of putting sheets on a damned bed? "You want to go check upstairs? First door on the left. I gotta go."

-NCIS-

"You want to go check upstairs? First door on the left. I gotta go." Gibbs gave her a strange look before heading out the door. Luckily she hadn't parked in back of him, otherwise he'd be expecting her to come out and move her car.

Once Gibbs was gone, she scurried up the stairs and opened the door on the left. The room was nice, even if it were a little generic. The television was a good size, just big enough for the space, and McGee would be able to see it easily from the bed. The books on the nightstand looked promising as they were a wide range of genre. Would the two man sit together and read, or would Gibbs sit next to a sleeping McGee, quietly reading to keep him company?

She liked both options, actually. Would they want to watch the same shows on television? If not, Gibbs might go back downstairs to watch something on his old set and that just wouldn't do. First, she had to add a little something to the nightstand. Tony might have been a little too much of a prude, but that was something Abby was never accused of being. That mission accomplished, Abby went back downstairs. It was time that old television had a wiring issue.

-NCIS-

Ducky actually glanced down at his watch when Gibbs arrived outside McGee's hospital room. "Don't ask, it's been an interesting morning."

"Oh?"

"Not sure why my buying some new bedding needs multiple inspections." That seemed to amuse Ducky, but Gibbs didn't want to let him get off track. "McGee cleared to go home?"

"His doctor is signing off on his release papers as we speak and a nurse is helping him dress."

The nurse in question came out of McGee's room at that moment and Gibbs used the opportunity to slip past her and into the room. "Hey, you about ready to blow this joint?"

"Yeah." McGee was quiet and subdued, but he'd been that way ever since his fever had broken and he'd been aware enough to remember and ask questions. He still hadn't made a formal statement or even talk much about what had happened to him, but the evidence had given them enough to close the case from an investigative angle. On a more personal angle, Gibbs was willing to wait until Tim felt safe enough to talk about it – hopefully to him, but Rachel Cranston was ready and willing to step in when needed.

Another nurse arrived with a wheelchair, Ducky right behind her, and Gibbs moved to Tim less injured side to help him up. "All right, we'll have you back to my place and tucked in before you know it."

With Gibbs' help, Tim stood and hobbled over to the chair. "I don't want to be a bother."

Hating those words and the return of the timidness, Gibbs wrapped his arm a little tighter around his waist. "Not a bother." He cupped Tim's face, forcing him to look up. "Never a bother." That got a wan smile, but he'd take it for now.

Unsurprisingly, the ride home was quiet. Gibbs didn't try to force any kind of conversation and immediately helped him upstairs when they arrived home. Tim was obviously tired and didn't argue at all when his shoes were removed and he was tucked into bed. "Ducky will be here in a couple of hours to check on you, so grab yourself a nap without any nurses bothering you."

"That sounds really good." Closing his eyes, McGee was out just like that. Gibbs spent another moment smoothing the blankets and watching him sleep before noticing that the drawer in the nightstand was just a little bit crooked. The guide was a little worn, he'd noticed earlier, but he'd been very careful in closing it back up.

Curious and a little bit suspicious, he eased the drawer open and stared down at the new arrival. Luckily he'd found it and not McGee. Tim was pretty easy going, but waking up in Gibbs' bedroom and finding a fresh and waiting bottle of lube in the otherwise empty nightstand would probably be a little strange. Quietly he lifted it out and took it with him, dropping it in the back of one of the bathroom drawers on his way downstairs. He was still trying to decide what to think about the surprise gift when Ducky arrived.

"Jethro? Is everything all right? You seem perturbed."

"Answer a question for me, Duck."

"Of course."

It took a minute to put it into words. "Describe my relationship with McGee."

Judging from his expression the question was not what Ducky was expecting, but he gave it some serious thought. "Timothy's kidnapping has fundamentally changed how you look at him. Prior to this dreadful experience, you kept yourself apart from him. Not to the extreme, but to those of us who really know you, it was apparent."

He hadn't realized that, but Ducky was still talking. "As to the why, seeing how you struggled when he was missing, and then these last few weeks while he's been in the hospital, I suspect that the exact opposite of everyone's assumptions to be true. That it was not that you somehow cared less, that in fact, you cared so deeply that you were unable to face it. At least until the very real possibility of losing Timothy forced the issue.

"Now the real question has become – will you explore those changes with him, or push your feelings, along with Timothy, aside to return to the very safe status quo?"

"It's not that easy, Duck."

"Important things never are, my friend."

-NCIS-

After barely touching his lunch, McGee went right back to bed. An hour later, Gibbs wasn't all that surprised when the nightmare started. He rushed upstairs to find Tim thrashing around, sweating and shaking. "Easy, easy." The moment he touched him, Tim sat up with a gasp before curling in on himself.

"You're safe, it's okay." Out of his element, Gibbs could only rub his back and offer what felt like meaningless platitudes. Eventually he seemed to get through and Tim took a deep breath as he straightened out a little. "I'll get you some water."

There was an empty glass on the nightstand from when Tim had taken his pills earlier, so Gibbs refilled it in the bathroom before returning to the bedroom. He helped Tim to sit up, then supported the glass as he drank some. When Tim pulled back, Gibbs set the glass down, but didn't let go of him. It took a minute, but eventually Tim leaned against him and accepted the offered comfort.

"Were you able to find any family for Mr. Wahl?"

That had been McGee's only real question after he'd regained consciousness enough to remember where he'd been when he was attacked. The funeral had been while McGee was still in intensive care, but most of the team had attended, only Gibbs remained at the hospital and had seen the guilt and grief. He didn't lie, but it was honestly tempting. "Not yet. He and his wife never had children and he was the only one of his family to survive the camps. One of his neighbors remembers talk of a niece on the wife's side of the family, but that's not a lot to go on."

"Maybe I could find her."

"Maybe later, after you're back on your feet. If she exists, she wasn't particularly close to him."

"He didn't deserve what happened to him."

"Neither did you." Gibbs was glad to see him opening up just a bit. Hopefully he could help him let go of some of the misplaced guilt.

"I didn't save him. I didn't even see it coming."

"Nobody was expecting you to. You were getting lunch, not clearing a building." Gibbs hesitated, then decided to push some more. "The security camera picked up most of what happened. You were shot the moment you stepped through the door. There wasn't time to react, not even enough time to see your attackers."

Tim didn't seem surprised by that. Gibbs didn't know if that meant he remembered or not. "The gutters overflowed, I remember that. Bunch of water poured down my back."

"What's the next thing you remember?"

Tim's hand moved to press against the still healing wound. "Pain. Being on the ground. Yelling." He frowned and Gibbs could see the few fragments of memory slotting into place. "Somebody trying to get my weapon." His hand slipped down to his rib cage. "Getting kicked. Woke up in the trunk of a car. They shot him with my gun, didn't they? Mr. Wahl?"

Again, lying was tempting, but that wasn't his way. "Zablocki was going to shoot you; Mr. Wahl charged at him."

"Yeah." There was an exhausted undertone that Gibbs didn't like. "Zablocki, that's the one I killed, right?"

Now they were getting to the heart of the matter and Gibbs rubbed his back gently. "Can you tell me what happened?"

The words came haltingly at first, then started tumbling out, drawing every possible emotion from Gibbs. Pride at how he'd sorted out his options while bouncing around in the trunk of the car, hiding his cuffs and keeping his knife hidden. Disgust at the rotten food thrown at him while caged up like an animal. Fury at how he'd been poked and burned with the red hot rebar. Then Tim started talking about being pulled out of the cage and Gibbs felt the knot of terror in his gut tighten.

"I knew I had to get him to pull me out of that cage. It was the only way I'd ever had a chance to escape, so I let him nail me a few times with that metal rod. It hurt, it hurt so bad, but I had to make him think he'd beaten me, then I grabbed the rod and got it away from him."

Gibbs wrapped his arms around Tim a little tighter. "That make Zablocki mad?"

"'Ready to dance, piggy', that's what he said." Tim shuddered at the memory, his hand touching his waist. "All I had on me was that short knife that fit in my belt buckle, the one Tony gave me when you made me part of the team."

He hadn't known about that, but silently thanked his senior agent as he continued to listen.

"The blade wasn't long enough to stab somebody, not unless I could hit the perfect spot, but I knew a bloody wound would stop him, at least long enough to try and run, so I needed to hit an artery."

"The neck was your best bet."

"Yeah. I wasn't actively trying to kill him, but I honestly didn't care what happened to him at that point. I knew they were planning on torturing me to death, but if he was out of the picture, the other one wasn't smart enough to actually plan something out. If I'd have charged at him, he would have just slammed the cage shut, so I – I acted like I was trying to attack him with the bar, let him grab the end and pull me out of the cage."

Gibbs just nodded. It was a good plan. "That's when you went for his throat?"

"Used the momentum, pretended to stumble right into him. He never even saw it coming. The blood hit my face and I knew it had worked. He looked so surprised when he let go of me to grab at his throat. He was screaming and holding the skin, but not putting any pressure on the wound itself. The other guy – Robbie?"

Gibbs gave another nod, confirming the suspect's name without interrupting the narrative. Tim shuddered again and kept going, his voice getting softer and more tentative.

"Robbie just stared at him, like he didn't think it was real. I didn't have a clue where I was and I knew that I couldn't outrun him, but I thought if I could get into the woods, I could hide."

He knew that Tim was second-guessing himself. "It was the only thing you could do. We all saw the shape you were in when we found you. Nobody could fight like that. Just the fact that you were able to do what you did is practically a miracle in itself."

"I guess."

The emotional scars from this nightmare would take time to heal, he knew, but it was still hard to see Tim go through it. "You made it out alive. If that meant that one of the bad guys didn't, then so be it." Gibbs cupped Tim's cheek and turned his face enough that they could make eye contact. "You're still with us and that's what's important to me."

That got a smile and Gibbs let himself enjoy the closeness for a moment before pulling back. Tim was covered in a light layer of sweat from his nightmare and Gibbs didn't want him to get chilled. Just as the thought crossed his mind, Tim shivered, confirming Gibbs' plan. "How about a nice warm shower?"

A nod and a little wider smile, Gibbs was pleased as he helped Tim to his feet. He'd stuck a little heater into the bathroom in anticipation of McGee's arrival and turned it on as soon as they got into the bathroom and he'd closed the door. Stepping behind him, Gibbs helped Tim remove his t-shirt, then looked over Tim's shoulder and into the mirror.

"Oh, Tim." The words were out before he could stop them as he stared into the mirror at the scars. The mangled scar over the bullet wound where they'd had to repeatedly operate, trying to control the infection. The scars from the chest tubes that had drained fluid for weeks instead of the hoped for days. Then there was the scar from where they'd had to go in and stabilize a broken rib that had shifted and punctured his lung while he'd been out of his mind with a fever. Of all the scars, the ones that angered him the most were the partially healed burns. Watching Tim's face for any sign of discomfort, he stroked his fingers lightly over the angry red marks. "Does it hurt?"

Tim's eyes met his in the mirror. "Only if I move enough to stretch the skin."

Gibbs still had his arms around Tim. "I'll talk to Ducky about getting some sort of cream that will help those scars heal up."

"I think they sent me home with some."

He had a vague memory of a large tube of something in the bag, but it wasn't part of the necessary medications they'd explained to him. "I'll take a look after your shower."

Only to himself would Gibbs admit that he looked as Tim finished undressing, but it was the obvious weight loss and suddenly angular frame that he noticed more than the soft body hair and the well proportioned dick, though he did want to run his fingers through that hair and watch that dick harden up. Pushing those desire aside, he helped Tim into the shower and stayed close while the younger man showered.

He had two towels ready when the water turned off. One he carefully wrapped around Tim's waist before helping him step over the tub, and with the other he carefully dried Tim.

Tim finally looked at him, his eyes wide and soft. "Gibbs?"

His hand cupped that soft cheek. "Came so close to losing you, too damned close."

"I knew you'd find me."

"Always." Feeling something he couldn't - or wouldn't - identify, Gibbs lead him back to the bedroom. Tim looked beyond exhaustion so Gibbs sat him on the edge of the bed before retrieving a set of sweats. Once the pants were on he gently pushed McGee down onto the bed and stood. "Before you put on a shirt, let me go find that cream."

Returning the towels to the bathroom, Gibbs found himself staring at the drawer where he'd stashed the lube earlier. There were so many things wrong with that scenario that he refused to think about it. Shaking his head, he took the stairs two at a time down to the kitchen. Checking the schedule Ducky had written up, Gibbs went ahead and grabbed the bottle of antibiotics along with the tube of ointment. It would save him a trip later. After a quick internal debate he picked up the whole bag to eliminate any reason for coming back downstairs until dinnertime.

Back upstairs, he set the bag down on the dresser and carried the ointment to the bed. Sitting on the edge, he helped Tim sit up and started working the ointment into each mark, starting on his back. Tim leaned heavier and heavier onto him. It felt good holding him like that and Gibbs took his time rubbing the thick gel into each and every forming scar. Eventually every mark was treated, some of them even twice, and it was time for Gibbs to lay the now sleeping man down.

As hard as that was, it was even harder letting go, but finally – eventually, as he reminded himself about rule 12 – Gibbs pulled back. He took his time getting McGee laying in the bed, making sure he was as comfortable as possible before escaping downstairs.

Two steps into the basement and he changed his mind. That was too far away to truly hear the recovering man. Instead, Gibbs decided to watch a game on television. He didn't even need sound for that. Finding the right channel, he watched as the image narrowed, widened, then finally settled in a somewhat diagonal pattern, too distorted to even identify the teams. A couple of firm pats on the side of the old console didn't improve it any and Gibbs gave up, turning it off once again.

Increasingly restless, he wandered around the living room for a few minutes, trying to find a book to read. His current novel, a favorite western, was upstairs on the nightstand. He'd have to go back up and get it – or stay up there to read, which was the original plan.

The internal debate still raging, Gibbs quietly walked into the bedroom. McGee was still asleep, but he looked uncomfortable, his eyes rapidly moving under the closed lids. Almost on autopilot, Gibbs sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard as he picked up his book.

Asleep or not, Tim seemed to sense that Gibbs was there and shifted over to press up against him. As soon as he was tucked against Gibbs, his sleep deepened.

Losing interest in his book even before he opened it, Gibbs moved them around slightly, just enough that he could comfortably wrap his arm around Tim.

"Jethro."

It was so soft, just slightly more than an exhale, that he couldn't be sure, not really. In his gut he knew what he'd heard and it felt right. Almost without conscious thought, he started running his fingers up and down Tim's back, enjoying the little sighs and purrs of contentment as Tim finally and fully relaxed.

Tentatively he bent down and brushed his lips across Tim's forehead, eliciting a happy sound from the sleeping man.

He had rules, though, damn it. Rules that he never broke. He watched Tim for another few minutes, thought about how he felt about the other man, felt how good it was to hold him like this. Maybe, just maybe, he could bend that rule a little bit.

Maybe.


End file.
